


Lovers' Edge

by Goodneighbor_Neighbor (Fan_by_Proxy)



Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Barebacking, Cock Rings, Edging, F/M, Hancock has a little sub-drop, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Making Love, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor
Summary: Hancock has the Jet-jitters, but his Sole is there with handcuffs and a plan to sort them out.
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727050
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Lovers' Edge

Hancock grunted, pulling at his cuffs and squirming on the mattress. “C’mon beautiful, have a heart.” he rasped as Yvette’s hand slowed down _again_.

“Hush, _M’sieur le maire_ , hush.” She cooed, dragging her thumb over his tip, smearing the fat bead of precum that had gathered. “I promise, it is with heart that I am doing this.” Yvette murmured as she lowered her head to swirl her tongue over his tip and make it an even smearier mess.

When she’d offered to help him work off the Jet-anxiety, Hancock knew she’d meant with a round or two. He’d figured her taking the lead meant he’d get to watch her bounce on his dick, maybe even let him watch her go to town with a beer bottle and her fingers. Even when she’d held up the cuffs and the little rubber ring and smiled, he still hadn’t counted on _this_. “You’re _killin_ ’ me here, ya really are.” Hancock grumbled, arching his back, trying to get his cock between her lips.

They were obscenely red, painted up with some kind of creamy thing that wound up on everything, and he _loved_ it. Loved seeing red lip prints on his face and chest when he’d go in the bathroom after they’d fooled around while she was wearing it; loved the way it smeared all over her cheeks and chin when they really got to kissing each other. And now he loved the red rings she was leaving on his shaft. But if he didn’t get off _soon_ , he was going to go goddamn feral!

“Beautiful, I’m beggin’ ya here, I’m _beggin_ out loud.” Hancock pleaded as she pressed him back down and kissed his tip, and trailed more kisses down his shaft. He squirmed under the attention, groaning. “Makin’ me crazy here, gonna make me go feral in a minute!” he swore as her kisses travelled up his stomach and chest, his neck, his cheek, and finally his mouth.

She was lying on top of him, catching his cock between her thighs, kissing soft and gentle. “Greedy, greedy _Jean_. A few kisses and strokes and you are ready to come like a boy on his first time,” she teased, “it has not even been an hour.”

He couldn’t stifle the moan as her thighs tensed around him, squeezing his cock. The Pip-Boy was buried under the clothes but he could still hear the tic-tic-tic of the counter; the upside of being so hard-played was that he didn’t have a thought to spare for worry. “This how they fucked in the old days, huh?” Hancock demanded.

Yvette chuckled and nuzzled his cheek, squeezing her thighs as she put her lips to the scarred curl of his ear. “ _Martin_ could only take this for twenty minutes before he was ready to cry.”

 _Fuck_ that should not have made him throb, shouldn’t have made his balls draw up like they did when he was ready to go off. But it did; he’d already gone an hour, _a whole hour_ with her soft hands stroking him, her tongue tasting him, smearing her lip color all over his thighs, his body. “Y-y-y-yeah?” Hancock didn’t mean to stutter, but she kept squeezing his cock between her thighs and it hurt and felt great all at once. “Really know how to make your guy feel good.”

“You feel good? Are you _really_ ready to finish?” Yvette murmured, kissing the curled scar tissue that was left of his ear.

Hancock moaned again, shivery and shaken; the kind of moan that’d make it impossible to look Goodneighbor in the face again if anybody else had heard him.

“You like this _Jean_? You like your little ears kissed?” she asked, doing it again.

He bucked his hips, words gone. Hell, even if he were some kind of poet or a radio man, there weren’t enough words left in the world to get across what it meant when she kissed him anywhere. It wasn’t just that Yvette was a goddamn beautiful woman, wasn’t just that he loved her soft and smooth touch, wasn’t just that he damn near died every time she rolled her tongue in his mouth like she did when she said certain words. It was that she didn’t flinch away from any part of him; not the lack of nails, not the hole where his nose used to be, not the way his ears had melted back against his scalp. Not the general lack of hair, or the couple of patches of glass skin on his back; she crawled all over him like he was the same as her and there weren’t enough words left in the world to explain how that made him feel.

“How do you feel _Jean_? Hm? Tell me.” Yvette cooed, trailing kisses back to his mouth before letting him speak.

“Toldja, I’m _dyin_ ’ here.” he managed to get out in a rush as her thighs squeezed again and she wiggled against him. “Lemme off, I promise you’re knocking me out with this.” Hancock added; he didn’t actually know if the jitters were gone-gone or if they’d come back as soon as he caught his breath, but that didn’t matter. As long as he was camped out next to his gal, he’d manage.

“Where would you like to come off _Jean_?” she purred. “Here?” she kissed him, sucking his tongue.

Hancock shuddered.

Yvette sat up, planting her hands on either side of his head and leaning forward to press her breasts against his face. “Here, maybe?”

He groaned, opening his mouth to drown in the softness. The smell of her soap, of _her_ filled his head and he relished the way she was cutting off his air just by pressing a little. When streaks of light started shooting across his vision and his cock gave another painful twitch, he bit down. Just enough to get her attention so she could let him breathe. “Inside--don’t care, I just wanna be inside you.” Hancock said raggedly.

She kissed him softly and nodded, sliding down his body until she was straddling his hips.

Hancock whimpered as she pressed him inside, shivering as he felt her pulse and her slickness wrapping around him. He couldn’t wait to watch her jiggle while she rode.

Yvette reached down, fingertips brushing the rubber ring around his base. “Be still _Jean_ , this is where you have to trust me.”

He didn’t quite know what she meant by that, but he nodded--then suddenly the pressure was off his cock and he was coming so hard it _hurt_! Hancock roared, hips bucking up as he _finally_ got off. Still didn’t know what she’d meant but it didn’t matter, because he was coming; spurt after spurt to the tic-tic-tic of the Pip-Boy, coming so much that he could actually see it washing back out of her pussy as she straddled his hips and held his sides. It felt like he’d never _stop_ coming; he’d die still spurting with an angel beaming down on him and taking the load.

“ _Jean? Jean_ , open your eyes for me.” There was a lot of concern in that coo, and a warm soft hand on his cheek.

Hancock opened his eyes slowly, getting about halfway. He felt boneless, wrung out, spent. It was _great_. “ _Goddamn,_ beautiful…” he murmured. “Can the cuffs come off now?”

“They’re already off _Jean_. You had a little faint, I think.” Yvette replied, running her hand over his head lightly. “Your eyes rolled back and you shook a little.”

“I did? _Fuck_ , last thing I remember was looking down and thinking I’d just about knocked you up with at least some twins.” He said with a chuckle as he flexed his wrists experimentally. The cuffs were gone, like she said. “You good, beautiful?”

She kissed him. “Hush.”

“But--”

Yvette kissed him again and eased off of him, going to the console to get a can of water. “That was for you first, then me. Now drink.” she chided as she helped him sit up.

 _Goddamn,_ Hancock was hurting like he’d gone down the staircase ass-over-teakettle again; all over real good, but worse around the middle. He also felt like there wasn’t a drop left in his balls. “Hey now, that ain’t how it goes, beautiful.” Hancock said as he took a sip; she’d even gone and opened it for him. It made him feel a little babied, and that was starting to make him feel guilty.

“ _Jean_ , I spent all of this time touching you. Kissing you, tasting you, sharing your body with you. Learning more things about you, things that I want to know so that when we make love, we play, I can make you feel the way you make me feel.” She said as she sat next to him and took his free hand, holding it with both of hers on her lap.

He swallowed hard and tried to push the lump in his throat down with more water. “Handsy broad, aren’tcha?” he tried to joke.

“ _Oui!_ ” Yvette said brightly.

Either she’d missed catching the joke or he’d missed lobbing it out there. “Beautiful--”

“I love to touch. I _need_ to touch.” she said. “I know sometimes, maybe, I touch too much, or too far. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable. For me, making love to my love means making love to their whole body, with my whole body. I love you, so I want to make love with all of you.”

Hancock finished the can and set it on the nightstand by the bed. Normally he’d chuck it across the room, but she hated that; hated the sound and the fact that after a few days, there was a mess. He took a deep breath, still feeling spent and sore and boneless. But the Jet-jitters were gone, and the downs were trying to come in. “Sorry, beautiful…guess sometimes it hits me real hard, how good you look and how good you are, and how…how long it’s been since I had that kinda thing. I’ll give it away like that, sure. But gettin’ it back the same way…it’s been a while.” he shrugged, avoiding her gaze and instead looking at his hand, caught between hers, resting on her thighs. Hancock felt her lips on his scalp.

“ _Je comprendes_.” she said softly, letting go of his hand to lie back and pull him down with her to curl up together. “Can I say something to you? It may not sound so nice at first, but I can explain, maybe?”

“Sure, beautiful.” Hancock murmured, shifting around until he was snugged up with her the way he liked; her ass on his sore, sore lap and his face buried in her hair, close as spoons in a safe.

“It is not that I do not see what makes you different from other kinds of men. It is that it…ah…hm.”

“You like it?” he teased. “Ghoul-chaser, are ya?”

She snorted. “I like _you_. I love _you_.” Yvette pinched the back of his hand where it rested on her stomach. “What I mean is that looks change. You are handsome, not in a way I would have recognized before the bombs fell, but I see now.”

Hancock frowned, trying to puzzle the sense out of that sentence. He wished he knew more of that old-world French like she did; maybe what she said would’ve made more sense in that than in English. “I’m not following ya.”

“When I met _Martin_ ,” she began.

He steeled himself, reminding himself that _he_ could take what she did for longer than ol’ Martin had.

“He was a soldier boy baby-face. No scars, just freckles. After the suit failed? Well…you saw him.” she murmured.

Hancock hugged her a little closer. Yeah, he’d seen Martin in the vault, several months dead and started to defrost. That wouldn’t do much for anybody’s looks, but good ol’ Martin had been about one of the ugliest corpses he’d seen in a while.

“But the important parts of him survived; his hands. His heart. His smile.” Yvette sighed. “He may not have been my soldier boy baby-face anymore, but he was still _Martin_.”

“Ok?” He wasn’t seeing her point; at least not all of it. Was it that the outside changes, the inside counted? Some hokey shit like that maybe?

She nodded. “When I met you, the first time, do you remember?”

“Yeah, you stared pretty hard.” he snorted.

“I had not been awake for very long, and everything was strange and new. I had seen some Ghouls before, had to shoot them, but then _you_ were not trying to eat me; you were wearing a bright red coat and stabbing a man because he was impudent.” Yvette wiggled, turning in his arms so she could lie on her back and look at him. “You spoke to me clearly, and firm; you introduced me to Goodneighbor and yourself with strength.”

He was taken aback at her recollection of that first meeting; it sounded elegant, classy. Not hardscrabble, and definitely not the way he would’ve described it, especially because he’d been irritated and coming down and taken her staring for the same prejudicial bullshit he’d striven to keep out of Goodneighbor. “Strength, huh?”

She nodded. “I think the first time that I saw you smile, I was wearing the Shroud costume? And your smile was wide, and crooked, and you even laughed a little. By then, your face was not so shockingly different anymore. It was just your face, and my face is mine, and so we go.”

Hancock still didn’t quite understand where she was going, couldn’t yet see what her point was going to be. “Didn’t scare ya?”

“ _Non_. Not even when we went to save Kent, and I saw how angry your face could be.”

That had been a bad day…and it’d also been the day he’d started falling into lust with her. Something about a woman throwing open her coat to dare a lunatic to shoot and then hauling off and putting one right between his eyes? Wo _of_.

“I cannot see you in my mind as any way other than the way you are; warm, and strong, and funny, and _insatiable_ …” Yvette grinned at him, nose wrinkling cutely.

“Well that’s good…but where’s the part that you thought was gonna…I dunno, bother me?”

“ _Oh_! Right. I got distracted.” She admitted.

He laughed.

“I know it is sort of a joke, when you say that no fingernails means you can do much better for a woman--and you do. _Cher Dieu_ , you are almost _as_ good as a woman with these,” she said as she pulled his hand up to kiss each fingertip twice.

Hancock was _definitely_ spent; not even her cute little kisses or the idea of her with another gal did much more than give him a tingle that didn’t go anywhere. “Well I aim to please.” he said with a grin.

“You do.” she replied sincerely. “I also…I do not care about your missing nose.”

“Oh?” he raised a brow.

“It makes kissing a little easier; now I only have to worry about your eyes when I want to throw myself into you.”

“Keep talking, I like hearing what you like about me.” Hancock said playfully, trailing his finger down her nose before tracing her bottom lip. And that was the truth; he generally was a ‘show me’ kind of guy, but there was a special kind of realness to being told face-to-face like this.

“You are warm. And strong. I love to feel you flex when I hold onto you, even when we are not actually making love. And your lips are _very_ nice.” She said. “The worst kiss is one where you are doing all of the moving, and he is just standing there like a dead fish.” Yvette said, pulling a ridiculous face, fingers at the corners of her mouth to stretch her lips flat. 

“Now _that_ ain’t a lie.” Hancock said, leaning forward to kiss her silly expression, enjoying the spring as her fingers let go and her lips pressed against his all plump like they were supposed to be. “Guess I should stop feeling so insecure, now that you’ve said all that.”

“It is ok _Jean_ …you went a little ‘funny’ today. It was your turn, after all.” Yvette nuzzled him, hands up and cupping his face, kissing him again.

“I don’t seem to make it as wet as you do when you get ‘funny’.” he teased.

“Trust me, you do.” Yvette replied. “Only I am lying down, so you cannot see. But I feel it, _trust me_.”

Hancock grinned. He was still dead at the waist, but that was fine. A beer bottle could sub in, if push really came to shove. “Next time, you get the cuffs.” he growled, kissing her again as he rolled on top of her.

She giggled, arms circling his neck and legs around his waist. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Truth-be-told, I'm not into edging. But the point of working from an old kinktober prompt list is to challenge myself to write smut, even on days when the prompts aren't really my interest or I don't know much about (in this case it's both!). And again, I have proven I can't write straight-up pwp, I gotta have FEELS going on lol
> 
> *My strange and personal headcanon is that Hancock is pretty touch-starved, what with being a Ghoul and all  
> **At some point I really need to sit down and write about Hancock's internal competition with the Sole Survivor's dead husband...would anybody be interested in anything like that or are y'all just content to get snippets and implications?


End file.
